Wishing
by Rianne
Summary: My response to AJ's forum challenge of 'Missing Scene in Washita'


_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise!

_Author's note!_ Written in response to AJ's 'Missing Scene from Washita' Challenge! Thank you AJ!!

I'm afraid I am a little rusty and this was written as a 'One Shot' so I hope it isn't too terrible!!

Just a short piece of Happy!!

_**Wishing.**_

By Rianne.

Michaela sped Flash onward, the late afternoon sunlight gleaming on the beast's mane as the grass and trees filled her ears with a rushing sound akin to the ocean on a breezy day.

The precious bundle curled in her pocket bumped gently against her thigh as the pair, jumped slight inclines in the country and meandered outcrops of rock and mud. The heavy weight of her leather riding coat keeping the chill from her as her heart beat warmly in her breast.

Happiness. It swelled through her, the sunshine, the crisp grass, the vibrant blue of the sky, it all seemed brighter, sharper, sweet in its abundance. She could not remember feeling this happy.

Yet when she saw the grand wooden structure slide into view in the distance she felt her breath catch at the sight. She could not help but smile at the way she thought. Their house! Their house! Her mind still unable to quite grasp that this was finally becoming a reality.

She drew Flash to a shaky halt, drawing up her reigns as the pair paused panting, taking in the sight before them. The new finish to the wood gleaming in the afternoon sun. The work, the sheer hours Sully had put into this creation. The planning, the clearing, the sweat, the tears.

The love.

For her. For them. For their family.

And in that moment she had never felt surer of herself. Of her decisions. Of her choices.

It was like her dream come true. Of all the wishes she had made on birthday cakes, on falling stars, she had never dared ask for as much as she had been given. A man like Sully, a man who had strength, had honour, had compassion. Who gave her space and knew when to step in close. Who loved her and was not afraid to tell her no. Who loved the Children as if they were his own, just as she loved them. A man who had built them a home from nothing with his bare hands.

No, not even in the wildest dreams of her adolescent self could she have conjured a man so right for her. Or a life that would have lead her to a place like Colorado Springs, yet this was where she had finally felt at home.

She took a breath, and then laughed softly to herself. When had she turned into such a sentimentalist! She leaned forward as she stroked Flashes mane with coaxing fingers.

"Hey girl, are you ready?" she asked her loyal companion. "Lets go!" she cried a beaming smile transforming her face. With a tug to her reigns Flash took off as if feeding on Michaela's excitement, her hooves barely touching the ground as if flying, following the new path, which was quickly becoming familiar to both.

The horse had scarcely slowed to a stop as Michaela jumped to the ground, the lighter weight of her riding bloomers allowing her much more freedom that her constricting skirts. She casually threw the end of Flash's reigns over the curve of the stair railing. Stepping up into the warmer shadows of the interior she was once again filled with the warmth of pleasure and pride.

She hoped that she would always know the awe she felt for Sully each time she stepped inside. Every surface reminded her of him, his touch was everywhere. He had filled almost all her waking thoughts for so long that she barely remembered what life had been like without him and this place, this place was filled by Sully.

Reaching into her pocket she withdrew the beloved gift bestowed upon her by Snowbird. A beautiful dream catcher. Feathers and twine and beading, woven with such skill, and such faith. Yet edged with sadness, for her dear friends were now headed South to safety. To relinquish their freedom, it felt like an end, and yet her own life felt like it was just beginning.

Cradling the gift she moved further into the room, the space filled with shadows pierced with beams of sunlight, which glittered with sparkles of sawdust. Made the room warm and cosy and the deep scent of new wood filled her senses.

Dangling the charm from her fingers she contemplated carefully where to place the cherished object. Maybe she should have waited for Sully. He might wish to place the charm in a specific place; after all it was a gift to the both of them. With a faint smile she recalled the glint in her friends eye as Snowbird had presented the gift and proclaimed that it had 'brought many happy suns over her lodge with Cloud Dancing.'

Even alone as she was in the darkness her cheeks still pinked, maybe it was just that she felt Sully so completely in this place. She wished he were there with her, but she knew he needed time. The departure of Cloud Dancing with the Indian Soldiers had been hard for Sully to witness. Hard for him to see a man and a brother so angry, so angry that he would attach himself to a side which was not altogether good simply because there was no other side to take. Yet worries plagued her the more she thought about it. Worries not just for Cloud Dancing, and the Cheyenne, but about Sully too. For in loosing the Cheyenne it must be like loosing ones family and she knew all too keenly how that felt.

She crossed the floor, her footsteps throwing up small clouds of sawdust, she reached out at the fireplace, the grey stone cooling the air, to place the skin that had covered the dream catcher onto the mantle. Gently she hooked the talisman to a pin in the mantle itself, watching for a brief moment as a breeze in the air caused it to spin and the feathers fluttered.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted something new. Something large, which leaned heavily against the wall, shrouded by an old yellow patch-worked sheet. Never one to idle in curiosity when an answer could be reached she crossed the short distance and reaching upwards tugged gently on the battered fabric.

The material swept to the floor, her fingers still curled in it as her eyes grew wide and she knew in that moment just how much she loved him.

It was simply beautiful. The wood before her carved into a scheme of feathers with a circle at their centre. Just like the dream catcher.

A bed. He was carving them a bed.

This wonderful piece was to be the bed's headboard. Her mouth curled open in surprise and delight as her fingers reached up to caress the surface. The dips and valleys of his careful creation. The time, the thought, the skill.

As her fingers drifted so did her thoughts, coming to settle on the one thought, well one series of thoughts, which had fluttered in her mind as of late. Thoughts of intimacy with Sully, of the sure way he touched her and the indescribable way that made her feel, of gentle caresses that spread warmth, of tingling kisses with the heady promise of more.

A bed. He was carving them a bed.

She closed her eyes a moment. Her mind conjuring blurred trembling images of soft sheets and tangled limbs and motion. Ideas melded together from stories read, and heard and the few innocent encounters had.

His open mouth on hers, the heat of his breath, the way his strong fingers swept back her hair, the feel of burying into the haven of his arms and yet the thrill of his masculinity making safe also exciting. The heady thump of his heart. It made her own heart race, here, alone, in the relative darkness of her future home.

This was to be her future. The time longed for, a time she had almost been resigned to never arrive at. It was so close she could practically reach out and touch it.

"Was supposed to be a surprise!"

His words sent a jolt through her; she turned sudden, her mouth falling wide. Speechless for once.

There he stood, his face obscured by the shadow, his torso illuminated by a brilliant beam of sunlight. There he stood like in a dream, like the answer to her wishes.

He had watched her approach from the shadows at the side of the house. Had been washing off some of the dirt and the dust from his arms and hands before he would venture inside to work on the bed. He had heard the horse's hooves pound towards him and known it was her and he had known that if she went into the house that there was the chance she would discover her surprise, and when he had seen her mount the front stairs he had felt his stomach sink a little, knowing that nothing could have been done to stop her.

Yet here she was, arriving like a dream, like the answer to his wishes. She had not been far from his mind all afternoon. How could she be, in this house, which he had created for her. Each slide of the wood plane, each swing of the hammer to a nail. Each motion an expression of the love he felt for her taking shape into reality.

Yet the bed. He had avoided working on the bed all day. It frustrated him. It had to be perfect, had to be just right. Yet each time he began to work his mind began to wander. To slide over the gleaming mane of her copper hair, the smooth of the curve of her cheek, the satin of her vulnerable open lips. Just the idea of what would happen between them when this bed was completed, when it was in place in their room, when it was decorated with soft sheets and pillows and blankets. When they shared it together.

He needed to be close to her.

Moving after her slowly, so as not to startle her he had climbed the steps on silent feet aided by the soft skin moccasins. Peering through a crack in a boarded window he saw her cross slowly to the fireplace, the dream catcher he had seen Snowbird give her as a parting gift dangling from her fingertips. He watched her place the offering onto a pin in the mantle, then saw her turn to her right. Saw the yellow sheet he had covered the carving with catch her attention.

Oh how he wished he could have seen fully the expression that crossed her face when the fabric was drawn back. What he could see of her in profile was just too little, so little that he was drawn inside, drawn to reveal his being there.

He moved to the doorway, stepped inside the room just in time to see the way her fingertips soothed over his carved strokes. To see the dreamy look on her face, to see the way her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyelids were heavy.

He spoke without thinking.

"Was supposed to be a surprise!"

Then she turned and he simply could not breathe. The expression on her face, the heat in her eyes, neither was tempered by the jolt, or the guilty surprise.

He had never seen her look more beautiful.

He straightened, attempting to look scolding, whilst feeling vulnerable. He knew she liked the surprise, that he could not question, yet he felt so exposed, like he had opened his heart to her all over again.

Yet the way she had looked at the bed head, it had spoken volumes. It had shouted of her curiosity, the way her fingers had moved clearly expressing her sensuality. She was pure woman.

He was worried that his desire and longing were as clear across his face as hers had been. He had straightened in an effort to regroup, to not scare her with the wave of intensity that had raced through him, and yet the passion in her eyes drew him in and in that moment both knew unspoken that their thoughts mirrored the others.

She just could not take her eyes from him, and recognising this she dipped her head. Her cheeks at full flame. Realisation settling in her, bringing her around to a different version of her senses and awakening her nerves.

"It's your wedding present." She heard him say, he was trying to clear the air and yet she found helplessly that she could only focus on the strength of his right arm. The way that he had rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, the dense dark hair that curled, the size of his fingers and the warmth of them she now knew.

Yet even the tone of his voice was warm, like it caressed over her, she felt her heart pick up its thunderous beat. He was so calm, yet his eyes, his eyes spoke of storms.

She kept her attention averted from his face as she saw him move, leaning back against the headboard for support, feeling light-headed and a little dizzy as she felt him approach. The sound of his feet overwhelmingly loud in the air between them as he advanced from the shadows towards her.

As he took the last steps she looked back to meet his gaze, needed to prove to herself that this was really happening, then when he got closer, too close she found she could not bare to look anymore, she felt truly consumed by his fire and averted her eyes once again as he came to a casual halt before her. How dare he look so calm!

She let her attention slip slowly over the carving by her head, finally able to speak she did not fully recognise the voice, which issued breathlessly from her, barely a whisper.

"Sully, it's so beautiful."

She turned back to him, knowing that she needed to face her nerves, that the trembling in her limbs was normal and exciting and wonderful.

Feeling, rather than seeing his right arm lean out to caress his handwork by her shoulder she heard his whispered response. Felt his breath stir her hair.

"It will be, when it's finished."

Moving fluidly as he spoke she found herself enclosed by him, the heat of his nearness, the smell of the wood and the wilds on him, the way the dying sunlight from the window danced in his cheeky eyes. Her heart was pounding ever faster, the tension in the air beating between them. Willingly trapped, one wall against her right, a small worktable to her left, her back to the beautiful expanse of wood and her future before her.

She was nervous, but it felt different, she felt so close to being ready. Ready to learn more, to experience more. Ready to feel.

He moved in closer, reaching his left hand to skim her upper arm.

"Figured… we could use a bed."

He whispered, the meaning behind the words blindsiding her with the sweetest of shuddery images. She could barely breathe or think, she just hovered there as she managed to return the smile he gave her. His fingers moved again, teasing the curve of her jaw. The tingles that rushed to the sensitive spot behind her ear making her knees quiver helplessly.

She tried to speak, not really sure what to say, her lips just mouthing the beginning of sentences that evaded her as she looked deep into his eyes and felt him move ever closer, his hip brushing hers, resettling his right arm against the wood behind her. He dipped his chin, his gaze fixated on her lips as he moved in for a kiss, and she felt a sudden pang of panic.

It was too much, she wanted it so badly her body strummed. It was just too warm, too real, that he was really there, that she was not dreaming. She knew in that split second that if he asked her too she would have held nothing back from him. That things would have happened between them which could ruin their wedding night, that later they might regret not waiting, that he might think he pushed her, and not listen when she told him otherwise.

She ducked her face, and dreamlike as the situation was with the beams and the warmth, and the surprise, he knew not to push, as her right hand slid across her body, unconsciously distancing, to grasp his right arm as she softly stuttered,

"May I watch you work?"

"Sure."

He consented, with a calm acceptance, as he too waged the internal battle she fought.

Away from his intimate stare, she reigned in her feelings, in an expression of overwhelm and relief which was not quiet relieving. Allowed free, she slipped from their almost embrace, feeling him take a step back as the chill of sudden air bathed her front. She felt his palm caress her right shoulder as she stepped away, leaving a lingering reminder of his warmth behind.

"Here," he offered, causing her to turn back to him as he lifted the battered yellow blanket which had once covered her surprise to spread out on the floor before him. "Sit on this."

She had to smile at his gallantry, and also at his fumbling to straighten the material. Strangely it calmed her some to know that he was a jangling bag of nerves just as she was.

She settled herself comfortably, watching as he collected a tool from the small table before standing before the carving, hiding from her the war he waged to regain control of his impulses. Her voice drew him back to her, the sadness in her tone echoing his own feelings of guilt and uncertainty.

"I was thinking about how lucky we are, to have this house. I can't imagine having to suddenly pack up everything and leave ... It's only been a week, and it feels as if they've been gone a year now."

He turned back to her, his expression pained.

"I miss em, too."

"Do you think they're alright?" she asked.

He sighed. "Should be safe at Fort Cobb by now ... Once Custer gets his fill of chasin' Dog Soldiers, he'll move on." The sadness was now evident in his voice, his tone wavering in their shared emotion. " Maybe they'll be back."

She smiled softly, hoping, wishing that to be true. Yet one question still plagued her, and this conversation was suddenly so far from the sweetness of their previous, that it seemed like the time to ask.

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder if you wish you'd gone along with them? I mean they have been your family for so long, and…"

He cut her off, calmly, but with honest force.

"The Cheyenne are my family. Always will be." He put down his tool and moved towards her, crouching down to sit with her and bring their faces level. Unable to look away from the earnest longing in her eyes. She needed to be reassured. The vulnerable women who she hid so well from so many, yet she did not hide from him, seeking answers.

He settled in, leaning close, so that she could not help but see the honesty and the love in his face. His knees brushed hers, she could see the way his heartbeat stirred his chest.

"And so are you."

She dipped her head, uncertain. Yet he had second-guessed her, his fingers sliding out to cup her chin, the gentle way he touched her soothing and coaxing. He tilted her beautiful face until she looked directly into him.

"When are you going to understand?" he asked, more statement than question.

"My heart's yours now."

His words were a caress to her defenseless soul, which matched the softness of his fingers to her cheek.

Then he was leaning in, gently arching her chin higher, his open lips capturing hers and this time finding no resistance. Her heart and soul were melted by his words and the intensity of the moment dissolved her worries away.

It was a slow caress of lips, a sensual play of heat and tease and gasping breath, and she gave herself up to it. Relaxed and open and free to enjoy. She reached out her hands to draw him closer, her fingers sliding through the scruff of his stubble into the tangled soft of his hair, drawing it away from his face as she drew him closer.

She felt her world spin as the intensity increased, the passion dammed in them breaking free, the earlier conversation having stirred something so powerful in both of them. The sweetness of the sensations made the room heavy, she leant back, feeling his arms curl around her, let him guide her back fully, slide her to the yielding blanket below them. One arm supporting her back, the other a cradle for her head. It all happened so quickly that she had no time for fear to encroach, she just felt.

He moved, never breaking his embrace. Just before she touched the ground beneath her he broke the dance of his lips with hers just for a moment, he was cautious, but he had nothing to fear. The love in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

He resettled, bringing the length of his body into contact with hers, his weight resting on his elbows as he lowered his body to hers. In an instant he was already being pulled back towards her lips by her fingers as they explored his hair.

She had to restrain the surges that bolted through her, settling as a heat in her belly. Had to fight the instinct to arch against him, as she delighted in this her first experience of intimate contact. His thighs had spread over one of hers, trapping it between his, anchoring them and the riding bloomers she wore meant that little separated them and the heat from his body was almost overwhelming.

The delicious feel of their racing hearts thumping against one another and the way the kisses had continued again without their permission swept them both away, the hungry swipe of his tongue to the sensitive curve of her upper lip causing her to swallow the sound she felt surging up from deep inside her. Both felt the deep ache for one another answered. Both driven desperately towards pleasure by their instincts.

They broke apart momentarily for breath, before she arched her face, her fingers coaxing him down again for another kiss, but he managed to keep this one light and short. He knew he had to slow this down; that they were racing far to fast towards the precarious point of no return.

Separating once again they gazed at one another panting, a new understanding between them, Michaela finally comprehending Sully's need to touch and kiss to a much larger degree and Sully newly content in his wife-to-be's final relinquishment from the guardianship of her nerves.

Calmer, he leaned slowly towards her lips once again, unable to resist the opportunity, the closeness, and the look on her face.

She opened her lips encouragingly, before realising that they both could not afford to risk drifting away on another wave of passion as great as the last. At the last split moment her fingers slid between them, sliding in a gentle quest for understanding from him over his lips to lie on his cheek. Her expression one of slight guilt and humour.

"You'd better get back to work or we'll never have a bed." She managed to say, half laughter, half teasing.

They remained there smiling, both feeling the blood pounding around their heated bodies. Neither really wanting to move. Their lips kiss swollen and inviting. The comfort and tingles which both felt in equal measure wherever they touched remaining the greatest of temptations.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered slowly, emphasising the words, dragging them out, making her laugh out loud as she knew his words were part sincerity and part coaxing, asking to stay and continue without actually asking. She beamed up at him, admitting defeat, knowing too that she could not be offended by this attempt to prolong their contact, knowing that the woman in her would have felt somewhat slighted had he not protested.

Both sighed, as Michaela shook her head gently, "I never believed I could be this happy."

She paused, gazing adoringly up at him. "I love you so much."

He smiled, sighing again defeated, in mock protest he gently rocked himself against her, so that she felt the pressure of him against her thigh, felt his real resistance to moving, felt for the first time what she did to him. Yet she felt no fear, just an overwhelming sense of happiness and knew that he must feel the mirroring heat in her own body. Both laughed pleasurably together, closely bonded by the slight embarrassment of their predicament in a way that only lovers can be.

He would not fight her decision, but he was quite happy to unabashedly let her know of his frustration! He lowered his head through their laughter as she turned her face to the side to press a quick tickling kiss to the exposed curve of her neck before gathering her to him.

With an almost animal growl of pure frustration, which stirred her more than she ever would admit to, her arched her up into a sitting position. He slid to the side of her, slyly making sure his untucked shirt covered him, an act of courtesy they were well beyond by now. Yet it touched her.

Sliding away from her he stretched awkwardly to attempt to relieve some of the tension in his muscles as she watched mesmerized, still lazy and stirred from her encounter with him. Her eyes following the curve of his back and the slope of his shoulders as he flexed.

He turned quick and caught her watching. Flustered she set about making sure that there were no wrinkles left in her riding bloomers, yet the touch of her fingers causing the fabric to scrape her skin seemed only to sensitise it more, so she stilled. Feeling his eyes on her she looked up. They contemplated one another for a moment, both with hot cheeks wondering what they should do next. Neither used to finding themselves in situations like this, yet the camaraderie and intimacy of the last few minutes still lingered in their eyes.

"Will you still work now?" she asked, hearing a more familiar edge return to cover some of the husk of her voice. " If you don't want to work…" her voice faded off and she suddenly felt very silly for her shyness. "If you don't," she tried again, " I'm sure that the children would love for you to join us for some supper?"

Her expression had taken on that nervous look again, the brave Lady Doctor still afraid to put herself out there, and he loved her all the more for it.

"Love to." He nodded with a smile, as he helped her from the ground, watched with a smile as she frantically patted away the loose sawdust shavings from her coat. Watched as she returned to the calm, confident woman that she showed most people, but this time he smiled at her transformation, for he knew the truth. That under that composed exterior was a vibrantly passionate woman, and she loved only him.

"So, this supper," He asked, a naughty gleam in his eyes as he took her hand, leading her towards the door, " Will you be making it, or Colleen?"

Her laughter was the most wonderful sound to him, as she tore her hand from his in mock offence, slipping away from him to run into the twilight outside. Yet he was quicker than her and in one swift movement he had her pressed back against the outside wall of the homestead gasping, hands clasped firmly in his, his body once again in full contact with hers. She tilted her chin up to him in defiance, "I won't invite you next time if you laugh at my cooking," she retorted pretending to sulk, although far to aware of his warm pressure to pretend very well. He grinned.

"Yes, Colleen is cooking." She admitted, smiling wryly.

He smiled back, releasing her fingers, as he reached to capture her face lovingly in his hands. His expression sobered softly as he contemplated her, feeling her warm fingers slide around his waist to rub his back as she waited, content in his arms.

"I love you." He spoke, his voice full. "I can't wait to be your husband."

Then he kissed her so softly she barely felt it. Her eyes lulling closed.

"I love you too," she whispered, before she embraced him fully, curling into his arms, her face buried into his neck. She could have slept right there, slept long, and dreamed. Dreamed of heated kisses and sawdust and a future better than any of her dreams.


End file.
